


Oh no

by CravenWyvern



Series: DS Extras [12]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Death, Gen, Hound Attack, I have so many drabbles and I can't seem to stop writing them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12946992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CravenWyvern/pseuds/CravenWyvern
Summary: Met a Webber in a server who didn't really know what they were doing and I gave them some stuff to help them out.But I'm bad with playing with other people. I didn't mean to let them die.





	Oh no

**Author's Note:**

> Met a Webber in a server who didn't really know what they were doing and I gave them some stuff to help them out.
> 
> But I'm bad with playing with other people. I didn't mean to let them die.

“Damn it kid, I told you to hide, not fight!”

Maxwell stopped attempting to rip the spear out of the hounds skull, the tip stuck fast, and he sighed, keeping weight off of his left leg as best as he could. Sprained it, maybe, or just bruised it badly, nothing too dangerous, though the bite on his shoulder, the yank of the monstrous dog that had grabbed him from behind to send him crashing down would need to be taken care of. Infection and illness, especially in the winter, was never a good thing.

When no answer was given, no excuse, he straightened up, careful with his shoulder as he looked over to the monster child.

“I am angry at you still. You should know how dangerous these things are.”

No response, and that tipped him off that something was wrong, along with how Webber would not look at him, how stiff the child was. The kid was always active, always moving; it felt almost unnatural with how silent he was.

Maxwell limped over, wincing as he touched his shoulder, blood fresh but not flowing. A good sign, at least.

“Look, if I tell you to do something, you should do it. It'll keep you safe.”

Towering over the spider child, rubbing a hand over his face and heaving a sigh, Maxwell turned his attention back down, to roughed up spider fur and still mandibles, blank white eyes gazing downward.

“...Did you get hurt?”

Webber slowly looked up, eyes wide and pupiless, and then they suddenly collapsed.

Maxwell was quick enough to catch the kid before they hit the snow, surprised and confused as he gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulder. It had only been one hound that broken off from the rest of the pack, and he was sure Webber could take care of one of them, the child knew how well enough, and they were still here, after all. One hounds really shouldn't have caused too much trouble-

Oh god that was a lot of blood.

He couldn't even identify where it was coming from, too much fur in the way, and the purple hue stained his suit along with his own and the hounds, dribbling into the pure snow.

“H-hey kid, what happened?”

Webber didn't speak, and he really didn't expect them to anyways, but their mandibles twitched as he semi cradled them, arm around their back and trying to get them to have balance. Their eyes seemed glazed, an odd thing to see with a spider, and after a moment Maxwell gave up on making them stand and instead slid down himself, knees crunching on the fresh snow and soaking his pants as he held the child close to his chest.

He was trying to get them on his lap, away from the ice, and there still was too much blood, thoughts trying to run through his head of what he should do.

Silk, silk and spider glands, a honey poultice, anything, everything they had but he literally had none of those things, their stores back at camp all but run dry, they had been out here for that reason, to restock, and of course had to have found the hounds then, while they were distracted, and of course Webber wouldn't listen, wouldn't hide while Maxwell took care of his once pets, of course-

Webbers breathing was too fast.

Their shaky chest rose up and down, up and down, much too fast, and Maxwell was jerked back into reality as they coughed, more purple blood bubbling up from their throat.

“W-webber, hey, it's okay, j-just, just show me where you got hurt, show me-”

They were being unresponsive, multiple eyes blinking slowly at random, toothy mouth gaping open as they panted, and after a moment Maxwell held his breath and ghosted a hand over the child, their head rested against his chest and body half curled up.

Accidentally hooking against the wound made Webber curl protectively, effectively trapping his hands, mandibles tight against their face as their eyes shut tight.

Too much like a dying spider, and Maxwell breathed in slowly through his nose, trying to diagnose the injury as best as he could.

Every stuttered breath from the child seemed to be coating his gloved hands with more purple blood, a regular flow that gunked up their fur as well, and the faint inklings of panic were crawling into his mind.

This wasn't just some normal attack by a hound. 

The hounds liked to play with their food, evident by the non lethal bite at his shoulder, the way they had slipped and tripped him the entire fight. 

The more lethal attacks were either when they were done playing, or when they were very hungry, usually of the blue or red varieties.

Now that he thought of it, could a blue hound have been in the pack? And could that blue hound have turned its vicious sights against poor Webber? He hadn't been paying enough attention then, had been more focused on keeping himself safe, more focused on staying out of the monster's teeth than protecting the one person out here who tolerated him in some way or another, and damn it here they were, injured in some way because he couldn't stop thinking about himself-

Another cough brought him back, blinking rapidly as his thoughts tried to fit back together, and Webber finally moved, pressing their face against his suit as their coughing intensified, more blood oozing out of their mouth.

With how small the child was, and how big some of these creatures were, it wouldn't be all that hard for them to practically break the kid in half. Maxwell should know that, should know how easy spiders were.

After all, back on the Throne he's done his fair share to the child-

And now wasn't the time to think about that, really, don't think about that, don't-

“M-mr. Maxwell?”

He had closed his eyes, not realizing that he had, and Webber was looking up at him, eyes unfocused and dull, breathing quick and shallow.

“H-hey, kid, looks like you got into some trouble-”

He had to bite off the rest of the words, bite off the almost automatic lines, the memories were in the front of his mind now and hard to get rid of, even harder to ignore. Webber had grabbed hold of his arm, claws pricking his arm through his clothing, and after a moment they brought it up, hugging with both arms against their bloody fur.

“Wasn't-w-wasn't paying attent-attention, my fa-fault-”

“No no no it's not your fault, I should've taken care of it, that was on me-”

Webber buried their head against his chest, coughing again, and from here even with the obscuring fur the wound didn't look good at all, and Maxwell gritted his teeth, not knowing if even silk and glands could help with that. It wasn't as if a chunk of their side was missing, but it was a close thing.

What was one supposed to do with a still bleeding wound? Get bandaging supplies, of course, he knew that, but they didn't have any, what was he supposed to do, put pressure on the wound right? With his hands, his own clothing if he had to, right? But the injury was rather big, he had to have a lot of supplies for this, they didn't have anything at all, how was he supposed to stop the bleeding if blood was everywhere-

Webbers mandibles twitched against his chest, claws still tightly circled around his arm, and the brush of their extra appendages brought him reeling back, the sense of panic closer and more real than before.

“I-it's gonna be ok-okay, Mr. Ma-maxwell.”

They blinked up at him, breathing even more shallow and eyes half lidded, and Maxwell had to steel himself and try to regroup.

“I'm the one who is supposed to be saying that.”

He was taking too long, had to stop the bleeding, but Webber had effectively pinned his arm against their chest and was almost comfortably in his lap, curled up against him with their limbs held close.

_Dying spider_

“Webber, I'm going to have to move you a bit, I need to stop the bleeding-”

Webber shook their head, closing their eyes fully and tightening their grasp on his arm. They didn't talk, seemed to have ran out of energy to do so, and that wasn't a good sign was it?

It wasn't exactly hysteria that was bubbling up in his chest but it felt close enough and Maxwell had to swallow the lump in his throat and fight against the slowly dawning realization that-

_Spiders are fragile_

“It will just be a moment, okay, I'll just lift you up for a moment, I need to see how bad it is, you'll be fine-”

But even just saying it made nausea roll in his gut, at the thought of manhandling Webber of all people, and he was being soaked with purple blood and the snow around them was spreading with it, too much to be safe-

Too much to come back from

And his own breathing was a little fast, a little quick, a little hard to deal with, Webber's having slowed down considerably, and the sudden cold drop of panic made him cradle the child close to him, trying to contain his own shaking.

“You'll be fine Webber, you'll be okay, it'll only be for a moment-”

He wasn't talking about moving the kid anymore.

He's brought about enough death to know.

Whatever emotion was writhing around in his chest was making it hard, hard to speak and hard to not do anything, to not try, but he already knew it was too late. Maybe if they had the supplies, maybe if they were in camp, maybe if both of them had been healthier, had food in their bellies and had been surviving better, maybe if he hadn't been so focused on his own fighting, his own injuries, on the damn spear, if he hadn't taken so long and wasn't so damn selfish-

Webber wasn't the one crying, but their breathing grew more halted, harsher, but still pushing.

Why was everyone here so damn stubborn?

It was easier to just give up.

“Webber.”

Maxwell held the spider child close, hands in their fur as he did his best to be comforting in some way, though he highly doubted he could even be comforting. But dying alone was worse than at least being around someone, at least having someone be there, no matter if they wished to comfort or cause more pain.

He should know that well enough.

He didn't know if they were fully conscious anymore, but they still breathed, slow and rough. 

Children died easy, spiders died easy, but it always took such a long time with Webber. It was as if they didn't want to give up, to die just yet.

Maxwell wanted to tell them that they would wake at camp, that it would be spring, that everything would be fine.

He couldn't lie about that, however.

“It will be quick, Webber, fast, and then you'll be s-somewhere else. Maybe you'll find someone, someone better, and then everything will be okay.”

Maxwell bit his lip, his own breathing slowing down as the child continued to try and draw air into their dying lungs, still clinging to him as their blood spread around them both.

He rocked ever so slowly, holding them close, and huffed out a sigh as the panic finally left him. It was too late for all that.

“Just. Kid, just let go. It's time.”

Another few stuttered, long drawn out breaths, and he closed his eyes when he felt them go.

Another heavy sigh, the pain slowly trickling back into his shoulder, his movements having reopened it and soaking his suit with red streams of blood, and Maxwell reorganized himself, quelling anything and everything for now.

They hadn't been doing so well. Winter was harsh, and teaming up for it always ended badly, especially around him.

It had been a mistake on his part. Webber would have found one of the others, would've found their true camp, and wouldn't have ended up here if he just hadn't-

Hadn't accepted their friendship.

Well.

Next time, he'd do better.

No no, there won't be a next time. It was better if he just stayed alone.

Opening his eyes, glancing down at the corpse in his lap, Maxwell carefully untangled his captured arm and settled it into the snow, slowly standing up as his legs protested.

He was never one for burial. This world took care of all that by itself. It was the same for the husks of the dead hounds.

Unlike Webber, however, they wouldn't be coming back.

He almost rubbed a purple blood stained hand against his face, stopping just in time, and he heaved another sigh, one last look at the child that had kept him company for so long. There had been no reason for all this, and it could've been avoided.

He needed to be more careful for now on, and not be so swayed by persistent friendliness.

His weakness had caused another death.

No more.

He turned away, to trudge back to the now emptier camp, to break it down and take everything and move elsewhere, where he wouldn't be followed.

No more.


End file.
